


For the Future, For the People

by syniaie



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Child Death, Gen, Graphic Execution, Mourning, child sacrifice, this hurt a lot to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:59:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syniaie/pseuds/syniaie
Summary: Regis makes a deal - without knowing the consequences.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. The Agreement

He came in a dream.

“Regis Lucis Caelum,” Bahamut rumbled, voice seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. “I have a deal to offer you.”

“A deal?” Regis asked, struggling to stand firm in the feeling of weightlessness in the darkness. The hand the Ring of the Lucii rested on clenched on instinct.

“A deal,” Bahamut repeated. “We, the Astrals of Eos, have found a new way to save the future. The darkness will not come, and the Evil One will be defeated.”

“But?” It couldn’t be that easy.

“In order to gain the power needed to carry out this act, we will need four sacrifices. Merely four lives given back to the earth, their talents and power passed to the planet for the salvation of all. You must sacrifice them, for the good of mankind.”

Dread curled down Regis’ spine, and his knee started to ache.

“Who are they?” Regis demanded, both hands now clenched into fists.

“First, we require your compliance,” Bahamut replied. “We must ensure that you will still act once the list has been given.”

That sounded far too foreboding to ignore.

“Tell me first, then I’ll decide.”

“No!” Bahamut growled, the deep voice managing to shake his very soul. “I have given you the terms. Answer now or be held accountable.”

Regis closed his eyes - not that it did him any good. On one hand, this could save countless lives, make the future so much brighter instead of the fragile hope they all held to now. On the other… Who was it that the Astrals wanted? Instantly, he thought of Noctis - and carefully, he dismissed it. He was still just a child, not having the power needed for such a feat. Himself? That, he could see, but Regis would willingly give his own life to save that of his people.

It seemed his decision was made for him.

“You have my word,” Regis replied.

“Then awaken, King of Lucis,” Bahamut answered. “Awaken, and the lives of which you have bartered will be given to you.”

And so, Regis awoke in his bed, the sheets cold and empty, to a simple envelope resting on his nightstand. With trembling hands, he opened the letter - and when he saw his son’s name at the top of the list, regret crashed over him like the coldest of frostbite.


	2. Noctis

Noctis blinked owlishly when he was told.

“...No thanks.”

And so, he had to be ‘coerced’ - Crownsguard pulling at him, dragging him to the wooden cross that waited ominously for him.

Regis shut his eyes against his son’s frantic wails - all too reminiscent of when he was a baby, not that long ago - and left him to be tied inhumanely tight to the wooden planks that spelled his doom. 

“Daddy!” Noctis screamed, thrashing weakly against the Crownsguard that held him in place and wound his wrists with rope. “Daddy, help! Help me!”

Regis ground his teeth together, only the feeling of Clarus’ hand on his shoulder keeping him from rushing to his son’s side.  _ It has to be done. It has to be done. _

“Daddy, please!” Noctis sobbed helplessly, his legs kicking so pathetically against the rope that was about to be secured. “Daddy, please, help me, I don’t want to die!”

Clarus’ grip on him tightened.  _ You can’t. I know you want to, but you can’t. _

Noctis descended into frantic, wordless wails as he was fully bound. He writhed helplessly against the cross as it was hoisted upright, the Crownsguard settling it into place to display the prince for them all to see.

“Daddy,” Noctis whimpered, his blue eyes wide and scared and full of tears. “Daddy-”

That was the last word he spoke before a Crownsguard slit his throat and he drowned in his own blood, the gurgles of his dying son ringing in Regis’ ears.

The first sacrifice was made.


	3. Ignis

When Ignis was informed of his fate, he did not cry. Instead, he asked only one question.

“Will this help everyone?”

When Regis told him yes, Ignis nodded.

“Then I’ll do it.”

Less than a week later, Ignis was being led down into the depths of the Citadel by two Crownsguard. The shackles looked so heavy on his tiny wrists, his big, green eyes neutral behind his glasses. Not that Ignis needed the iron cuffs - it was merely a precaution, in case he decided to run and change the fate he had previously accepted. 

Regis, Clarus, and Cor watched silently as Ignis dutifully followed his guards - executioners - to the open door of the ancient furnace. The coals roared inside, having been previously stoked to their highest point by the servants that littered the castle.

Ignis stopped just before stepping inside, and the Crownsguard tensed, prepared to grab him if necessary. Instead, the boy simply turned around to face Regis.

“Your Majesty,” Ignis addressed, in a voice too high to be silenced, untouched by even the tips of manhood.

“Ignis,” Regis acknowledged, in a voice rougher than he expected. He was struggling to hold back tears - a boy so young, so precious, so full of life, the second son he never had, the brother Noctis had needed so desperately.

Ignis hesitated, for once his surprisingly carefully maintained facade breaking into pieces. His eyes were afraid but determined.

“Thank you,” Ignis called softly. “...You helped me a lot. I… really liked being with you and Noct.”

Regis’ jaw tensed and he took a deep breath in through his nose.

“I appreciated every moment with you, Ignis. I wish things could’ve happened differently.”

“I know,” Ignis mumbled. “...Love you.”

Before the words had registered in his head, the boy - with so much promise, such a full and successful life waiting for him - turned and stepped into the flaming coals, the Crownsguard quickly shutting the door behind him and locking it tight.

Regis broke down in tears as the first pained screams started to echo from the glowing furnace.

The second sacrifice was made.


	4. Gladiolus

Gladiolus did not cry either. Instead, he accepted it.

He even asked to be executed in a specific way - a blood eagle. Like the eagle tattoo he was supposed to get when he was older, he said.

Iris cooed as Gladio was led to the cold, stained steel table where he would be cut open. The boy smiled, briefly, before lowering his head again to hide the tears that were streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks still round with baby fat.

Clarus held his daughter in a vice grip, careful not to hurt her, as he watched every second of his son being led to his death. He was too short to get up on the table himself, so a Crownsguard had to help him up - pushing him down gently and tying his little limbs in place in accordance with their plan. No matter how much the Shield wanted to look away, he couldn’t - his son, his  _ baby boy _ , in the few precious minutes he had before he would be slaughtered for the good of all.

“Can I say something? ‘Fore I die?” Gladio asked softly, his head turned to one side and amber eyes gazing emptily into nothingness.

“Of course,” Regis murmured in a voice that was supposed to be soothing.

Gladio shut his eyes for a second before looking up at the ceiling reverently, careless of the snot dripping from his nose and the puddle of tears that was forming underneath his face.

“‘M sorry if I did something bad to make you guys want me dead. Please don’t be angry at my Dad or Iris, I’ll give you what you want. I’m a big boy, I can do it.”

Gladio paused for a second, and Clarus’ heart threatened to break.

“Please, pretty please let me see Mom and Ignis and Noct after you take me. I miss them lots every day and I really can’t wait to see them again, even if I’ll be leaving Dad and Iris and Jared and Cor and Regis and everyone else behind. Thanks for listening, if you guys even did.”

Gladio closed his eyes and laid his head quietly back on the steel table. He sucked in a shaky breath.

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?” Clarus couldn’t keep his voice from shaking.

“I love you lots. I love Iris too - super lots. Make sure she knows for me, okay?”

“Of course.” His voice was a whisper, raw and unsteady.

A long moment passed before Gladio nodded determinedly, his small hands curled into tiny fists and his eyes shut tight. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Without preamble, Gladio’s small back was sliced with clean precision, his ribs pushed aside, and his lungs pulled through the cuts and spread just like he had asked them to be. Clarus watched, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight, until his old friends led him away from his son’s butchered corpse.

The third sacrifice was made.


	5. Prompto

It took them a while to find Prompto. Alone, left in a scrappy little orphanage, he brightened instantly when they offered to take him somewhere.

Cor’s throat tightened when he recognized him - the wild, fluffy blonde hair, the explosion of freckles, the sparkling violet eyes. The baby he had saved from Zegnautus Keep so long ago, here and smiling and being led to his death.

Cor held his little hand as they went back to the Citadel - the small boy babbling excitedly about all the things he wanted to see. He tried to keep up a cheerful attitude, to pretend nothing was wrong - but one look at Prompto and whatever mask he had put up crumbled to ash.

Cor called it a game, when he led Prompto to stand on the pedestal. The boy squealed with delight when he was told to close his eyes and he obeyed immediately, bouncing as he felt the bag gently placed over his head. The noose was next - Cor calling it a friendship necklace as he settled it around the boy’s tiny neck. Prompto began to lose his energy when he could feel the tension in the room increasing.

“Cor?” he whimpered, so tiny, so helpless. “What’s happening?”

“Everything will be okay,” Cor assured hollowly, his chest aching. “Just stay still.”

There was the most pitiful squeak from under the bag as the pedestal suddenly fell away and his neck snapped almost instantaneously.

The fourth sacrifice was made.

And so, it was done.

**Author's Note:**

> ow


End file.
